


Believe

by hdarchive



Series: What I Need [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: BadBoy!Blaine, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine doesn't want to stop. Kurt doesn't either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believe

**Author's Note:**

> This one took a lil bit longer to write. Hopefully you see why.

How fast can you fall in love with someone?

He wants to know.

Not because he’s falling in love, no, but because he thinks he could be and he wants to know when he should put a stop to this.

They’ve pretty much just met.

Technically, he’s known Puckerman longer than he’s known Kurt. He’s known Sue Sylvester longer than he’s known Kurt. He’s known Mr. Schuester longer than he’s known Kurt.

And he hates them all, but he’s never been more thankful, because in a way they brought him to Kurt, so he can’t really complain.

-

Glee club gets out earlier, and he trails a bit behind Kurt, who’s arm in arm with Rachel as the two of them talk to Mercedes, Artie and Tina.

He purposely keeps his distance, not wanting to look like he’s cares about their conversation, not wanting to look like he’s being left out, only walking along with them towards Kurt’s locker so he can say goodbye to Kurt and then leave.

He taps Kurt on the shoulder, mouth opening to say bye, when Mercedes turns to him.

“Hey Blaine, we’re all just heading over to the Lima Bean if you wanted to join us,” she says sweetly, and he finds that her voice is so warm that he couldn’t possibly be cold to her. “And we’re not just inviting you because Kurt says you’re loaded with gift cards.”

He scoffs, chuckles a bit and ducks his head, considering it. He’s never been invited anywhere that wasn’t a local location for illegal activities. At least not by anyone who isn’t Kurt.

Kurt clears his throat, drawing Blaine’s attention up, and his expression is so hopeful that Blaine wants to say yes, wants to give in.

“Nah,” he says instead, mouth twisting to the side, as if in disgust. “It turns out if you want good grades you kinda gotta do your homework, so I should probably go do that.”

She makes a sympathetic face, patting him on the shoulder.

He only looks at Kurt so he can finally wave goodbye, already taking a few steps away, but Kurt’s looking at him with wide eyes, hesitantly flickering from Blaine back to his group of friends.

“W-wait, I’ll go with you,” Kurt says, more to Blaine than anyone else, stepping closer to him and grabbing the spot above his elbow. “I can help.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, carefully extracting Kurt’s hand off and away from him, ushering him towards his friends. “Kurt, go with them. I’ll be fine.”

As much as he wants Kurt to come with him, he can’t be selfish, he can’t be too hopeful or want too much.

Kurt defiantly shakes his head, says boldly, “But I want to go with you.”

At first he can’t read the face Kurt is making, because Kurt’s making a face like Blaine should _already_ know what he means by the face that he’s making, and he’s confused, and frustrated because Kurt never listens -

Then Kurt touches him again, a more demanding type of touch, like he refuses to let Blaine shake him off, and he gets it.

Kurt barely gets a goodbye out to his friends, shouting it over his shoulder as Blaine pulls him down the hall, hand in hand.

How did it take him this long to get it?

-

He should have cleaned up his room last night, should have cleared up the shoe rack by the front door and maybe done a load of laundry, but how was he supposed to know that Kurt would be in his room the very next day?

But then his messy room doesn’t matter, not when Kurt’s on his bed and he’s on Kurt. He doesn’t know where to touch, where he’s allowed to touch, keeping one hand firmly on the side of Kurt’s face as he kisses him, the other roaming up from Kurt’s stomach to his neck to his hair, tugging it a little and making Kurt gasp.

He can hardly focus on where Kurt’s putting his hands. His cold fingers brush over Blaine’s sides as Kurt plays with the hem of Blaine’s shirt, and Blaine doesn’t know if he’s thinking of trying to take it off or trying to leave it on. All he can do is shudder every time Kurt touches him.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, his brain nothing but broken cables and sparking wires, he thinks he should slow down, they should slow down, because he’s heated everywhere and soon he won’t know how to want to stop.

Not that easy when Kurt opens his mouth and just lets Blaine in, definitely difficult when Kurt makes a noise that can’t possibly be a moan but totally is, and absolutely impossible when Kurt takes both his hands and grabs Blaine’s face and takes control of the kiss and demands more with his lips and -

“Kurt -” His voice has never sounded grittier, heavier, and he can hardly open his eyes all the way, settling on just dropping his forehead to Kurt’s and looking down directly at him. “I really fucking hate myself, but I should really get that assignment done.”

Kurt huffs, right against his face, and pouts, and with his nose so close Blaine’s first reaction is to kiss it, his nose and then his forehead, before reluctantly pulling back.

“You’re a bag of fun today,” Kurt mumbles, sitting up and adjusting his shirt, the bottom hem pulled out of his pants.

Blaine leans forward again, because three seconds away from him is three seconds too long, and kisses him, quick and sweet and still enough to stir the heat in his stomach. “Sorry. I’ll try and finish quickly.”

He lays out his binder, textbook and papers on the bed, creating a divide between them, or else he’ll be too tempted to just reach over and touch Kurt. It doesn’t do too much to help, because his mind is still frazzled and his body hasn’t let up yet, so he has to keep drumming his fingers, tapping his foot, shaking his leg, he can’t sit still, not with Kurt right there.

Kurt’s writing notes for him, little things that he thinks Blaine should include in his assignment, as Blaine sits on the other side from him and tries really hard to read from his textbook. Kurt keeps rotating his arm, doing it absent-mindedly as he reads his notes aloud, and Blaine doesn’t think anything of it until Kurt hisses a bit, quietly under his breath.

He puts his textbook down and looks up at him, frown set deep across his face. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

Kurt looks confused, then looks to where his hand is now rubbing over his shoulder. “Oh, nothing. I think it’s a bit bruised.”

A spike of fear-panic-worry drives right through his chest, and he sits up straighter and leans closer, gently touching the shoulder that’s sore. “From what?”

Making a face, Kurt just waves him off and shakes his head. “Nothing, Blaine. Back to work.”

“Kurt.” He looks at Kurt urgently, not understanding why Kurt’s so calm, why Kurt won’t tell him. “From what?”

Kurt rolls his eyes and swats him away again. “People being lesser people. It’s nothing.”

“Did someone hurt you?” He really doesn’t mean to sound so panicked, but his throat hurts and his lungs aren’t working and it comes out more high and worried than he intended. “Who?”

Like Kurt just knows that Blaine doesn’t usually sound this way, he looks at Blaine and sighs, eyes looking so entirely helpless. “The gang of apes we call the football team.”

“What -” Anger replaces every other feeling, and he launches himself across the bed and closer to Kurt, putting an arm around his lower back and trailing his other hand up Kurt’s arm, to his shoulder. “When - when did - why didn’t anyone do anything?”

He’s more angry about that now, because how does any human being walk by and watch another person get hurt and not do anything? Why hasn’t Kurt told anybody?

Kurt laughs and shakes his head, but doesn’t push Blaine away. “Nobody is going to interfere with something that’s been going on since freshman year. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“And why hasn’t anybody done anything about those stupid fucking slushies? Mike and Tina got one directly to the face yesterday, _in front of a teacher_ , and nobody said a word. It’s - it’s not right,” he says, and feels his heart beat heavy and fast underneath his ribcage. “I’m not the best spokesperson for speaking out against violence, I know. But none of you guys actually deserve it.”

Kurt turns a little, tilting his head to look at Blaine sideways, and his smile is grey, sad, empty.

“Nobody does, Blaine.”

“Okay well, I’m not gonna stand by and let _you_ get hurt. I don’t know what’s going through your mind but that’s not right, Kurt, it’s - it’s not.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” Kurt snaps, and begins to pull away from him. “You haven’t had to deal with it for nearly four years. It’s fine.”

The second he feels Kurt try and leave he latches on tighter, pleadingly, so goddamn pitiful and stupid, but miraculously, Kurt stays.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about it like that,” he whispers, and he can’t help how sad it sounds. “There’s - there’s gotta be something . . .”

Kurt shakes his head, but when he smiles it’s real and genuine and melts the unease sitting in Blaine’s chest.

“Try and think of it the way I do. They can’t change me, I can’t change them.”

There’s steel in Kurt’s voice, steel that sounds like it’s been beaten and bent but still strong, resilient.

Blaine cares too much, he realizes, when he usually tries to not care at all. Because when you don’t care you can’t fail, can’t be above or below the expectations. Kurt doesn’t care, because he already knows he’s above it.

He sighs in defeat, and nods, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder, mumbles there, “I guess I should - assignment. I should do this.”

-

Eventually Kurt falls asleep, leaning back on Blaine’s pillow and curling in on himself, and he feels bad because Kurt came over to be with him and he’s done nothing but schoolwork. Still, he looks cute, the most peaceful that Blaine’s ever seen him, and he feels kinda warm all over that Kurt trusts him enough to just fall asleep next to him.

But then watching him sleep just makes him tired, exhausted and a bit envious that Kurt doesn’t have to worry about schoolwork the way Blaine does. He decides to just close his eyes for a few seconds, a few seconds won’t hurt.

He falls asleep too.

When he wakes up it’s completely dark out, the room completely silent save for Kurt’s breathing, his light snoring, and he’s so much closer than he was when Blaine first closed his eyes.

A lot closer. Blaine’s chest is pressed firmly to his back, Kurt’s body curved along his, ankles crossed over Blaine’s. He doesn’t want to move either of his arms, bracketing Kurt and keeping him close, and he wonders who moved towards who and how they even got like this, but he’s not complaining.

Kurt’s still here. He fell asleep and woke up and none of this was a dream, Kurt’s still here.

It takes a few seconds to wake up fully, fighting and clawing his way through pure exhaustion, shuffling closer to Kurt and pressing his lips to the back of his neck, wanting him to wake up too, because -

Well, he fell asleep with Kurt still on his mind, cells and nerves still ignited his body like they’re radioactive, and being pressed directly against Kurt isn’t helping much, not that it’s a bad thing.

“Kurt,” he whispers, moving his hand to Kurt’s waist and shaking him a little, pressing his hips forward, repressing the groan that forms in the back of his throat. “Kurt, we fell asleep. Get up.”

Kurt makes a noise into the pillow, head shaking, mumbling, “No -”

Not the most graceful when waking up, Blaine realizes, but he smiles and shakes him again. Kurt seems to stir back to life, breathing in deep and sighing before shuffling backwards, closer to Blaine.

“I finished my work,” he says lowly, raising himself up with one arm so he’s slightly above Kurt. “So we can get back to what we were doing.”

Kurt rolls onto his back, looking up at Blaine with confused, tired eyes, blinking them a few times and then frowning, like he’s still trying to figure out where he is. “What were we doing?” he asks, voice roughened by sleep.

He doesn’t respond, just leans down and kisses him and hopes that says enough.

Kurt’s hands fly up, not to stop Blaine or push him away but to grab at his face and pull him closer.

He’s never felt so overwhelmed before. His body keeps saying _go go go_ and his heart is saying _yes yes yes_ but there’s that little part of his brain, saying _don’t_. And it’s only saying that because he doesn’t know what Kurt’s feeling, what Kurt’s thinking, what Kurt wants and what Kurt can have.

He breaks their kiss and Kurt whines, hands moving Blaine’s face as if to direct him back to his lips, but Blaine shakes his head, closes his eyes, and kisses Kurt’s jaw instead, the spot underneath his jaw and then down his neck, and Kurt _thrashes_ , entire body jerking.

Kurt’s hands slide up into Blaine’s hair, pulling tight as his breathing gets loud, heavy.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt gasps, chest rising and falling fast underneath Blaine. “I’m serious. What - what are we doing?”

The unease in his voice has Blaine pulling away, sitting back on his heels and frowning, trying to fight against the urge between his legs and the urge in his head.

“Haven’t you ever . . .” He knows the answer before he even asks the question. Biting over his lip, he thinks, and sighs. “Forget it. It’s okay.”

There’s nothing tired in the way Kurt looks at him, eyes wide and alert and - determined.

“No.”

He doesn’t know what he means by that, because Kurt’s hands are shaking and he’s breathing way too deeply and he can’t mean - he can’t want -

Kurt seems to read the face he’s making because he smiles, slow and shy and nervous, and nods.

And he thought he was overwhelmed before . . .

He doesn’t know where to kiss first. His lips his cheeks his nose his jaw his throat his lips again and again and again. Kurt laughs breathlessly, closing his legs around Blaine so they’re pinned right against each other.

“I’ve never -” Kurt gets out, somewhere in the seconds where Blaine’s lips aren’t on his.

“That’s okay,” Blaine manages to say, voice rasping, throat hurting, everything hurting, because Kurt’s hands are _still_ shaking but he doesn’t sound scared, he trusts Blaine, and that’s the most overwhelming fact of all. “I’ll show you.”

Show him what, he’s not really sure. He just lets his body lead him, now that he doesn’t have to worry about his brain, and starts to undo the buttons of Kurt’s shirt, but there are too many so he gives up with a frustrated groan and starts to work on his own shirt, grabbing the bottom hem and lifting it over his head.

Kurt makes a noise like he’s in pain, and Blaine quickly looks down only to see Kurt staring at him, wide-eyed, swallowing thickly and reaching up to touch Blaine.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, somewhat teasing, somewhat serious, fiddling with the button of his jeans and looking down at Kurt’s. “I’ll take mine off, you’ll take yours off, and that’s it. That’s all we have to do.”

Kurt nods along, looking confused for a second but following Blaine’s words anyway, and for some reason he looks more brave than Blaine feels, because Blaine feels _terrified_.

It’s funny, because when he danced with Kurt on that one day, feeling so long ago now, that was for sure the scariest thing he’s ever done with his body and somebody else’s, and at that point he had done a lot worse. But this trumps that, this wins by a landslide, because Kurt almost entirely naked underneath him and wanting him is a whole lot more than holding his hand and dancing.

This is usually nothing but with Kurt it’s everything.

He’s never tried to be careful before, because he’s never actually tried before, but he is now, being careful of Kurt’s shoulder and being careful not to scare him, starting off slow by rutting over his thigh, watching Kurt’s reaction to see if it’s too much.

Kurt’s not even looking at him, eyes and head down, watching as Blaine rocks his hips down, down, his hands curling tight around Blaine’s sides, keeping him there.

“Like that. Just like that.”

Kurt nods, whispers hoarsely, “That’s - you’re so -”

His eyes flash up to Blaine’s, bright and wide and desperate, and Blaine drops his head, laughing a little, catching the corner of Kurt’s mouth with a kiss.

He keeps doing that, because every time he presses against Kurt, Kurt gasps, like the feeling is so foreign and strange. All he wants to do is touch him though, to go faster and to make him feel good.

Kurt’s hands move down, down, sliding tentatively like he’s asking for permission, but he doesn’t wait for a yes before he’s holding Blaine’s hips and urging him over.

“ _Fuck_ , Kurt,” he groans against his mouth, harsh, breathing that much faster and that much harder and that much more desperate because Kurt’s aligned their hips and stolen the air right from Blaine’s lungs.

Restraint snaps, whatever was left of it, and he holds himself up, arms on either side of Kurt’s head, and starts to roll his hips forward, painfully hard between his legs and feeling only sparks of relief when his cock slides against Kurt’s. He feels something wet and he can’t tell if it’s him or if it’s Kurt, and if it’s both of them -

“Shitshitshit -”

Kurt’s fingernails bite into his skin, wherever his hands are on Blaine’s body, he can’t tell because all he can feel is what’s between them.

Touching Kurt like this is exactly like thinking about him. Overwhelming and dangerous, made of dreams and hope, and he can’t stop he could never stop, he wants this so much, he wants him too much.

He’s able to pinpoint exactly where Kurt’s hands are when they’re travelling down his sides, past his hips, fingertips edging underneath the waistband of his boxers, and when Kurt scrapes his fingernails along his skin he shudders, almost comes right then. He can’t pull away anymore, can only grind forward, grind down deep and build fastfastfast friction between them.

Kurt’s voice shocks him when he gasps, “ _Yes please like that_ -”

Brain not in control, he keeps rolling his hips forward, the length of his cock sliding roughly and wetly against Kurt’s through their underwear, but a part of his brain screams stop, slow down, part of his brain slams on the brakes and he pulls back from Kurt’s mouth, his body, and looks down at him, panting. “Slow - we should slow -”

“ _No_ ,” Kurt cries, and throws both arms around Blaine’s neck and pulls him back down, lifting his own hips and jerking them against Blaine, weak small efforts to chase the thrill and pleasure of being that close. “Keep going keep going please.”

He’s never heard anyone that desperate, Kurt’s voice and Kurt’s words and Kurt’s body the only yes he’ll ever need, so he gives it to him, faster and harder and too much, even for him, but never close enough.

“Are you close?” he pants, nearly tearing out his throat just to ask it.

Kurt nods frantically, one arm around Blaine’s neck still, one hand in Blaine’s hair, twisting up and around his curls.

Way back when, or maybe it was yesterday or maybe it was a month ago or maybe it was when he first touched Kurt or maybe just a few minutes ago, this was all he wanted. Not to have sex with Kurt, or to be the reason Kurt’s panting and jerking and close to coming, but for Kurt to want him just as much.

That is where his daydreams took him. He just never thought -

Because how could he?

Remembering that Kurt’s neck is a stretch of sensitivity for him, Blaine presses his lips there, kissing him quick and then opening his mouth to suck on his skin, soft and warm under his tongue. Kurt cries out just like Blaine expected, entire body arching upwards, and Blaine can _feel_ him come, can feel it right against him, everywhere Kurt’s touching him, in his pulse under Blaine’s lips.

He wants this to last forever, this feeling of tight-hot too-much, this feeling of all his veins and nerves alive and buzzing, this heat underneath his skin, in his spine and stomach and pelvis.

It can’t last forever, and he finds he’s okay with that when Kurt holds onto him with shaking arms, grasp weak but urgent, like Blaine will disappear if he lets go. He comes with a groan, a gasp, Kurt’s name, lips open and wet on Kurt’s neck.

The entire world goes blank in those brief few seconds, and when he can breathe again, the entire world is different.

He lays next to Kurt, staring at him and breathing hard, too hard, he’s never been left with dysfunctioning lungs before. Kurt’s staring back, not wide-eyed or horrified like Blaine expects, but rather fondly, curiously, smiling a little.

The first thing to cross his mind are words he can’t say. The second thing to cross his mind are words he shouldn’t say, but he opens his mouth to say them anyway, to ruin this, because he has to, _I haven’t come like that in forever_ , but instead his mouth hangs open as he stutters, “I-I - you’re amazing.”

In the dark he can’t see if Kurt’s actually blushing, but he thinks he is because Kurt ducks his head and laughs softly, breathing lowering back into its regular pace.

“As are you.”

-

He lent Kurt some boxers, walked him the small distance to the bathroom, and went back to his room to wait.

Wait for what? It’s over, right? That’s it. And they just - do what now? He’s never made it past this part.

Waking up in his bed - this bed, where he just had sex with Kurt - this morning, he had no idea what would come today, had no idea it would be this, had no idea every dream he ever dreamed in this bed would come true.

So what does he do now?

He got what he wanted, now he waits for it to break.

Everything he gets his hands on he breaks, because he’ll either be forced to drop it or someone will knock it out of his hands. He never gets to keep it, he knows this, he lives this, that’s life.

But what he’s wanted has never wanted him back. It’d be impossible to drop something that refuses to let go . . .

The door to his room creaks open, and he jerks his head to the side, taking a deep breath when Kurt steps in.

“Hi,” Kurt says, a little shyly, looking more put together now even though his hair is ruffled up, his shirt wrinkled.

“Hi.”

He feels a bit silly, sitting on the edge of his bed in only a t-shirt and boxers, blanket still a mess around him, but he can’t be bothered to fix it.

Kurt sits down carefully, a small distance between them, looking down from where Blaine’s hands are curling and uncurling by his sides then up to his face.

He’s nervous now, as if they didn’t just come together fifteen minutes ago. Nervous now maybe because this is more delicate, more fragile, more likely to tip over and break.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks, words stilted, placing his hand over Blaine’s and stilling it. “Do you - do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says it so instantly it hurts, turning his hand so he can enclose it around Kurt’s. “I want you to stay.”

More than you’ll ever know.

“Okay, I can -”

Stupid brain, shooting off words he knows he can’t say, looking for answers he needs but doesn’t want.

“Why did you do that with me?”

Kurt’s hand jerks but doesn’t pull away, even though the air of the room has gone from hot to cold, perfect to tense, even though Blaine’s voice is so venomous it stings his own ears.

Kurt looks at him, really looks at him, and there’s not a trace of fear anywhere in his eyes like Blaine expects, always expecting that fear.

“Because I like how you make me feel. I’ve never felt this way, about anything, about anyone. And no one's ever felt it for me,” Kurt says, sounding sure, sounding brave, even if his voice is a little shaky and his hand trembles a bit in Blaine’s grasp. “Did you not want to do this?”

Blaine laughs, because it’s hilarious, to want something so bad and not be able to vocalize it, not even when it’s happening. “I did. I just didn’t want to scare you.”

Break you, break this, break us.

Kurt’s hand on his face takes him by surprise, but he follows him, letting Kurt guide his eyes up, Kurt’s smile prompting him to smile back.

“I already told you, Blaine,” he says, stern but not cold, voice as gentle as his hand is. “You don’t scare me.”

Kurt kisses him, and for the first time, Blaine believes him.


End file.
